


dirty little secret

by whitherwaywill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Narrative, Post-Canon, Post-War, Sad, Some Plot, enjoy, no porn yet?, pansy and harry need hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitherwaywill/pseuds/whitherwaywill
Summary: Every generation has a Romeo and Juliet, a pair of doomed lovers. Harry and Pansy believe that this is their destiny. But still, they can't help but hope...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Black Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. dirty little secret

“Am I your dirty little secret?” she whispers, tracing her fingers across his chest.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, and she knows. He never can hide anything from her.

“Of course I am,” she sighs, head leaning against his shoulder. “What else would I be?”

“My wife,” he says, the words coming out of his mouth almost against his will. He turns his head and presses a kiss against her hair. “We could be married.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” she smiles. “Where would we live?”

“Grimmauld Place,” he says. “You would terrorize Kreacher into submission, and clean the place up. No more house elf heads on the walls. No more Dark magic lurking in the corners.”

“I could make it a home.”

They close their eyes, imagining.

“Would you wear white to our wedding?” he asks eventually.

“Of course,” she giggles. “I’d be the bride.”

“The prettiest woman there.”

“Not if we invite Ginny Weasley,” she sneers, covering up pain with malice. “Or Hermione Granger. Or Lavender Brown. Or Astoria Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass. Millicent Bulstrode, for that matter.”

“You’d still outshine every woman there.”

“Could I wear a veil?”

“Of course,” he tells her. “And I’ll get you a diamond ring to put on your finger, just before we say our vows.”

“Honeymoon in Venice,” she says, dreamily tracing a picture in the air with her fingertips. “Fine wine, gondolas…”

“You’ve never been,” he chuckles.

“No matter,” she dismisses his qualms. “It can be our adventure.”

“Will our first child be a boy or a girl?”

“A girl,” she says decidedly. “I won’t have a boy lording it over my beautiful little Lily.”

“Lily?” he says in a questioning tone.

“Of course,” she replies softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “The perfect name for a perfect girl.”

“Will we have another?”

“We’ll have three,” she tells him. “Lily, of course. Then a son. James. And then another son. Severus.”

“No,” he groans. “Any name, love. Anything but Severus.”

She laughs out loud, then quiets. They both freeze, his hand creeping toward the invisibility cloak lying beside him. After a few minutes with no sign of anyone hearing them, they relax into each other once more.

“It’s never going to happen,” she says sadly.

“Elope with me?” he says, half-joking.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says. “Survive the war. Then we can talk about the future.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

He sits up, grabbing his shoes and his shirt. He throws them on quickly, then reaches for his cloak.

“Am I your dirty little secret?” he hears her ask again in a forlorn little voice. He looks back at her, huddled up in the covers on her bed.

He leans over the sheets, and kisses her, long and sweet. “For now, you’re my secret,” he says. “But never dirty.”

“And later?”

“Later, after…when it’s safe…I’ll put that diamond ring on your finger and show the world that you’re mine.”

“And you are mine, Harry Potter.”

“I love you, Pansy Parkinson.”

Harry threw the cloak over his head, disappearing into the shadows. He almost missed her whisper as he exited the Slytherin girls’ dorms.

“ _Be safe…”_

One day they would both be safe. And one day they would be free.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he looks away first.

She sees him after the battle. Everyone’s celebrating, and she’s sitting, huddled in a corner with Draco and Theo and Blaise and Daphne, watching as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy argue with the Aurors.

They had been locked away in the dungeons. Unable to fight. They had felt the castle crumbling above them, and everyone, from the smallest firstie to Pansy, had been terrified.

He sees her too. Their eyes meet in a moment. In his eyes, she can see all of the times he snuck out to be with her, all the times she altered her prefect rounds, all the secrets, all the promises.

He looks away first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poor post-war people

Pansy hears about Potter’s wedding from Draco.

Draco hasn’t been the same since the war ended. All of the crisp corners and pointy features have blurred and blended into a faded, jaded man who, once upon a time, might’ve looked like his father.

“…engaged…Ginny Weasley…setting a date…Granger…”

Pansy tunes him out.

Once upon a time, Pansy had a shining white knight who promised her the world, and a diamond ring on her finger.

Once upon a time, Pansy had seen visions of herself in a beautiful white wedding dress tailormade just for her.

Now, suddenly, jarringly, the picture of herself in that pure creamy, white is gone and Ginny Weasley is in her place, saying yes to Harry, saying yes at the alter –

Ginny would be the bride.

The prettiest woman there.

The princess to Harry’s prince. Untainted by her house, by the Dark Lord, by fanatic pure-blood fathers –

Someone Harry could kiss in public. Who he could proudly have on his arm at the functions he would undoubtedly be invited to as the Chosen One. Who he could acknowledge in the light.

After all, Pansy and Harry had only loved each other in the dark.

After all…Pansy had only ever been Harry’s dirty little secret.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there and gone, push and pull

He sees her in the bookshop one day. He had allowed Hermione to drag him down to Flourish and Blotts, only to be abandoned, and then lost in the aisles.

He turns the corner, and there she is. Pansy.

She sees him coming toward her, because there’s only one way out of that aisle, and she’s prepared to turn away, to not see him.

He’s prepared to avert his eyes, to look past her.

But that magnetic pull that’s always been there, that pulled them together in the first place, _that’s still there_ , won’t let them. They lock eyes.

He keeps walking but his green gaze is tearing her apart on the inside.

She’s prepared to keep quiet, to not say a word. But that burning question rises up inside her, bubbling past her lips against her will in a quiet breath she doesn’t think he’ll hear –

“Did you forget?”

Harry freezes, right next to Pansy.

He wasn’t planning on stopping. But now, feet stuck in place, he faces her.

“Give him Potter,” he quotes.

There’s an emptiness, a deep ache, a broken heart buried within his green eyes. Pansy can’t breathe as she looks at him, remembering those words in her own voice.

“I remember,” he says quietly, coldly. But a part of him he’s barely mended is breaking again.

Pansy flinches.

He unsticks his feet, then he’s round the corner, gone.

Again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remember, remember? can't forget

Harry remembers.

_“Give them Potter!”_

He remembers searching the room for the source of the voice, and seeing her standing there, so fragile, at the Slytherin table, her finger pointed straight at him.

He remembers how he felt like he had been punched in the gut. Like someone had ripped the floor out from under him. Like his heart was breaking, fracturing in two.

And every time he’s looked at Pansy since, he’s felt his heart healing, mending, sewing itself back together –

_“Give them Potter…”_

Then Harry can hear those words echoing in his mind, and he has to look away because to Harry loyalty is everything. And betrayal?

Betrayal is unforgivable.

.

Pansy remembers too.

She remembers scurrying through the corridors, shrinking into the walls like she could become one with the wallpaper. She remembers curses, some whispered, some roared, piercing skin and bone and _pain…_

She remembers nighttime missions, racing through the halls with so many pain potions her pockets are almost overflowing, delivering them to the seventh floor corridor.

_“Give them Potter!”_

Pansy remembers that night too. She remembers the bone deep exhaustion that had taken root in her frame, remembers how hard it was to get to her feet. She remembers how absolutely petrified Draco (her best friend) looked, how Theo (her protector, her brother) hunched his shoulders up to his ears, anticipating…she remembers the itty bitty first years, who had never known a Hogwarts without war, sitting with hard eyes at the end of the table –

“ _Give them Potter…”_

She loves (loved) Harry, and she knows him too. She knows he never would’ve let all the fighters in the castle die for him, knows he would have sacrificed himself anyway. Knows he _did_ sacrifice himself anyway.

In the end, Pansy’s words hadn’t changed the outcome.

But Harry and Pansy can’t forget.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> draco's lost too

These days, it’s difficult for Draco to walk in public places. It isn’t easy, to walk past someone and know that the moment he’s far enough away, they’ll turn to their friend or the person nearest them and voice their knowledge of what he did (or didn’t) do during the war.

What he did (or didn’t) deserve directly after.

He doesn’t go out in public often.

Instead, he resorts to private entertainment.

Theo almost permanently resides at Malfoy Manor. He’s got some sort of understanding with Draco’s mother that Draco doesn’t want to know about, both of them quiet and withdrawn, spending their days opposite each other playing chess with inanimate, glass pieces.

If Draco finds their sole remaining house elf cleaning up broken glass on more than one occasion, he doesn’t say anything.

Blaise, when he’s not Port-Keying off to Italy to screw one model or another, has taken up undeniably permanent residence at the Manor. Or…permanent-for-Blaise residence. He’s got some sort of understanding with Draco that Draco doesn’t quite understand, himself, but doesn’t mind.

If Draco finds himself waking up in Blaise’s bed on more than one occasion, limbs entangled with the other man’s, he doesn’t say anything.

Pansy most definitely doesn’t live at Malfoy Manor. She lives on the Parkinson family estate, allegedly, although she spends ninety-nine percent of her time avoiding that place. Pansy’s nursing some deep, aching wound that she won’t tell Draco about.

If Draco finds Pansy knocking on his bedroom door at midnight, a brittle look in her eyes, begging to be loved, he doesn’t say anything.

Pansy’s desperate for a distraction, ever since the war (ever since the engagement announcement that ran with a grotesquely sappy picture of Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter in _love_ ). Draco, with his haunted eyes and faded tattoo and blurry edges is just as good of a distraction as any.

. . . . . . . . . .

A week after the engagement was announced, Draco is forced back into public.

His mother requested flowers, and Narcissa doesn’t ask for much lately. He can’t begrudge her something so simple.

He sees Ginny Weasley, walking down Diagon Alley alone, cradling a narrow box. Her left hand is conspicuously empty of any flashy, eye-catching jewelery.

It’s funny. She looks almost as miserable as Pansy does these days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when, did, it, all, go, wrong?

There are many, many things that Ginny can’t stand about her life.

She remembers Hogwarts. She remembers walking down a path that was already so clearly outlined, a well-trodden path worn down by six older brothers. She knew what would happen next. She was ready to walk that path, through Quidditch Games and Gryffindor parties and Transfiguration essays and detention. Until one day she found herself walking but suddenly the path was gone, obscured in darkness and pain and curses and evil.

The worst part is, she doesn’t know when she stepped off the well-trodden path.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dreamed a dream (nightmare)

Pansy has nightmares.

If it taught her anything, the war made sure she knew that there really are monsters in the dark. Monsters that slink around in the shadows, monsters that hide under your bed. And the worst ones, the monsters that stalked right down the hall, unapologetically demanding that you bow to them, that you kneel on the biting, frigid floor and press your forehead to the ground and shake, hoping and hoping that they’ll pass you by, that they’ll forget you exist –

Pansy hasn’t been back to Parkinson Manor since the war ended.

She hasn’t been back to Hogwarts, either.

Pansy lives at Malfoy Manor now, although she’s not sure if Draco or Mrs. Malfoy have realized it yet. Both are so caught up in their own, lonely lives. Pansy wishes Lucius had died many, many years ago, before it was too late for his family. For his son.

Draco will never know how often he stars in her dreams.

It’s an ensemble cast, really. It’s gotten to the point where she can wake up screaming in the middle of the night, then the next day, get out of bed and write it all down. Emotionless. Detached. Like it happened to someone else.

On the nights she dreams about Draco _(Draco, broken and bloody, laying at his father’s feet – Draco, skinny and shivering, pointing a wand at her with that wicked, wicked mark stark against his skin – Draco, killing Dumbledore then jumping off the tower after the body and leaving Pansy alone, all alone, to the horrors of Hogwarts)_ she always gets up right away. Throwing on a robe, she creeps through the alien, familiar halls of Malfoy Manor and knocks on Draco’s door.

He always answers, and pulls the door open wide.

She never has a nightmare when she sleeps in Draco’s bed.

Other nights Draco doesn’t even appear in Pansy dreams. Instead, she sees green eyes _(staring and glassy and dead, full of fire and alive and brimming with hatred and betrayal)_ and she sees the light from those eyes fade or she sees those dancing green eyes fizzle out to a cold chill as the person those eyes belong to raises his wand and speaks those two, deadly words.

Harry will never know how often he stars in her dreams.

And Pansy will never know how often she stars in his.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all made of glass

Sometimes, the silence in a house can be deafening.

Theo knows this from experience. He’s locked and boarded up Nott Manor, and moved out before the silence could drive him insane. Before the silence would become too much, and he would start to see his mother again in the shadows. His sister. His father.

They’re all gone. Theo’s alone.

It’s still quiet in Malfoy Manor’s library. But if Theo listens hard enough, he can hear Mrs. Malfoy _(please, call me Narcissa),_ Draco’s mum, across from him, breathing.

The chess board never changes. It’s the same, stiff glass pieces moving across the same board, day after day after day after day after day after…

It should be noted that Theo never bothered to get a job after he left Hogwarts. After his father was thrown into Azkaban for life.

Theo has a job now. He calls it, making sure Narcissa _(Mrs. Malfoy, Draco’s mum)_ doesn’t go insane from boredom. Making sure she doesn’t start to wallow in her memories, start to let that adamant Occlumency shield start to crack and break, making sure that she doesn’t let the Black madness start to seep in through those cracks.

He’s making sure Draco won’t lose his mum. _(That’s what he tells himself. That’s what helps him sleep every night)._

Sometimes Theo gets a creeping, crawling, bubbling feeling inside of his skin, a feeling that if he’s just pushed a little to the left he’ll jump out of his skin. Those days, he’ll beat Narcissa as quickly as possible. Those days, he’ll push the whole board to the ground after he wins, watching the pieces shatter and break on the floor.

She never flinches at the crash, just letting a small smile play around her mouth as she watches him pace over the shards.

Days like today, Theo doesn’t try. And Narcissa usually beats him in about two moves.

He reaches for his king, but instead of knocking it over (the traditional sign of defeat) he picks it up and drops it on the floor.

Narcissa raises a questioning eyebrow at him. He looks away, stares at the shimmering glass on the floor.

“It’s nice, seeing things break,” Theo takes a shaky breath, and waves his wand over the shattered piece. “When you know you can fix them.”

Narcissa watches the young boy out of the corner of her eye, watches him watch the glass knit itself back together. Her face is impassive as she speaks. “Nothing is every truly broken, Theodore.”

Theo shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes. He reaches down and picks up the king, placing it back on the table. “Even whole, the king is still hobbled.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rings or shackles?

You can’t sell a wand whose owner is dead.

This is what Ginny learns, the day she goes to Diagon Alley with an oblong box in her hand, her engagement ring missing.

That damn ring.

Ollivander wisely doesn’t comment on its absence as he opens the box she handed him, though he’s certainly seen the tabloids that announced her engagement.

His large blue eyes look at her with pity as he draws Fred’s wand out of the box gently.

“Miss Weasley,” he says softly, “I can’t take this from you.”

She leaves the wand shop without a fuss.

Ginny’s mum doesn’t know that Ginny has Fred’s wand. Ginny’s mum thinks that her son’s wand was destroyed in the battle. Ginny’s mum thinks that Ginny is done with her grieving period, that she’s moved on.

Ginny apparates home to Grimmauld Place, Fred’s wand tucked into her elbow.

She pauses on the doorstep, fishing around in her pocket for her engagement ring.

That damn ring. Ginny wears it sunrise to sunset, every day. She wasn’t planning on being seen, that day in Diagon Alley (she underestimated the observation skills of an ex-Death Eater, of a student who lived the war at Hogwarts alongside her).

It would be nice if she were putting on the ring because she didn’t want to hurt Harry’s feelings.

Harry doesn’t even look at her these days. All he sees are her hands, the damn ring on her finger, sucking all the light and joy out of the room.

Harry would pawn that ring for galleons if he could.

Ginny would melt it off her finger if she could.

But they can’t.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's love but not love

When a war is over, the victors celebrate.

They imprison their enemies. They dole out punishments, they dole out rewards. They write a history of battles won and lost, of heroes and villains.

Harry went to a funereal every day, for the first ten days after the Battle of Hogwarts.

This war left holes in his heart that he’ll never, ever be able to fill.

Harry sits at his desk. His shoulders are tense and his hands shake as he reads and rereads and reads again the letter that he wrote, just after the war, oh so many months ago.

Every month feels like a year.

He never sent it. He won’t admit it, but he’s afraid. Afraid of what’s in the letter. Afraid of what the letter could do. Afraid that if he sent the letter, everything broken could be fixed – he could be _happy,_ and yet –

He hears the front door open and shut, echoing in the empty halls of Grimmauld Place.

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t make this huge manor warm. He can’t fill it with light. _Pansy could,_ he thinks, he _knows_ …but he can’t think about that, that long ago promise, not now, not when –

“Hey.”

Ginny stops in the doorway. She looks bedraggled, and tired.

“Hey.” Harry scrutinizes her appearance. She looks sad. Same as always. “Are you okay?”

Ginny struggles, her lips trembling and her eyes watering, before giving in and crying quietly. “Ollivander wouldn’t take Fred’s wand,” she whispers.

Harry’s out of the chair before she finishes her sentence, up and hugging her. She crumbles, shoulders shaking.

“What do I do?” she asks. Harry doesn’t know the answer, so he just hugs her closer.

It’s only when he hears the crunch of parchment that he realizes he’s still holding the letter.

Ginny pulls away. Harry’s hands fall to his side, and his shoulders hunch. He looks at her, chastened, but she’s looking at the letter in his hand.

“Harry,” she says, “we aren’t happy.”

“Ginny,” he says helplessly. “You’re my friend.”

“I know.” She smiles gently at him, wiping her tears away. “You need to send that letter.”

“Kingsley – “ Harry starts, but Ginny holds up a hand, stopping him.

“Send the letter,” she says quietly. “Or I will.”

Harry can’t help but stare at the ring on her hand as she says this. Catching the direction of his gaze, she lifts her hand. She makes eye contact. And slowly, she pulls the ring off.

“I don’t need to wear this in the house,” she says. Harry nods slowly.

“Send the letter.” She turns and walks out of the room, presumably to go to her bedroom.

Harry’s left standing in the middle of the study, a piece of paper covered in ink in his hand.

_Send the letter._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> letters and lions

“Pansy!”

Pansy is woken by the horrible sound of Draco’s screeching voice. She groans. Obviously, Blaise hasn’t been able to get any coffee into his partner yet.

“Pansy!” Draco shouts again, his voice echoing through the wing of the manor that Pansy, Draco, Blaise, and sometimes Theo inhabit. She drags herself out of bed, and tugs a silk robe on before opening her door.

Draco stalks up the hallway, in disarray. In one hand, he clutches a piece of parchment. With the other, he’s trying to fend off the attacks of an irate owl. Blaise is in the doorway of his own room, being absolutely no help whatsoever. He chuckles as Draco lands a hit on the owl.

“Pansy!” Draco hisses as the owl nips his hand.

“Yes?” Pansy tries, and fails, to suppress a giggle as her friend smacks away the owl once more.

“Here.” Draco shoves the piece of parchment at her. The owl abruptly stops his attack, and swoops into Pansy’s room. He lands on the back of a chair, and looks at her expectantly. Draco stares in consternation. “How – “ he shakes his head, and backs away from Pansy’s room. Muttering to himself, he makes his way to Blaise’s room. “Blaise, you arsehole, thank you for all of the help – “

Pansy giggles, retreating to her room and closing the door. She looks down at the parchment in her hand. “What have you brought me?” she asks the owl, who haughtily ignores her question. Pansy flops down onto her bed, and opens the paper.

Her smile fades as she reads.

_Pansy,_

_Gryffindors are supposedly brave, so I don’t know why I find writing to you so hard. I’ve written a letter, addressed to you, that I’ve never sent. That I never will send. I wrote that letter directly after the war, so you can imagine ~~how angry~~ what it may have contained. _

_I miss you. God, Pansy, I miss you. And I can’t just walk past you in the streets anymore, or content myself with a few words exchanged in a bookstore. I knew you once, ~~I loved you~~ , and I want to know you again. _

_I understand if you don’t want to meet me. But if you do... I am free any time for you._

_~~Love~~ -Harry_

Pansy looks up. As if in a dream, she walks over to her desk, and pulls out a sheet of paper. She’s got so much going through her head, and as she picks up a quill, she knows she wants to berate him about Ginny, to remind him of what he’s said in the past, to apologize over and over again –

She doesn’t write any of that.

_Harry,_

_I need a copy of Granger’s latest book. I’ll be there tomorrow._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

Harry’s there, in a secluded corner of the bookstore, holding a copy of Hermione’s book.

_(alone)_

Pansy’s there, walking down an aisle straight towards him, her eyes locked on his, her pace steady.

_(alone)_

They don’t say anything. They don’t want to.

Hermione’s book falls to the floor, forgotten. Pansy’s wide-brimmed hat hides Harry’s face and his lips crash down on hers.

She tastes like sin, like salvation, like all the hopes and dreams he lost in the war.

She tastes like home.

_(home)_


End file.
